


Beneath the stars falling on our heads

by HistoriaGloria



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Peter Nureyev name generator, Set post Man in Glass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23641408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HistoriaGloria/pseuds/HistoriaGloria
Summary: 'Everything had been going well.Until it wasn’t anymore.But that’s always the way it is, isn’t it? It’s going perfectly, completely swimmingly and then suddenly you’re running for your life, with at least six guards with blasters following you and no functioning comms devices.'Juno and Peter get into a little trouble on their latest heist.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 11
Kudos: 111





	Beneath the stars falling on our heads

**Author's Note:**

> Hello yes, did Penumbra take over my life briefly? Yes. Do I love these two idiots? Yes.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! It sort of got away from me, aha.
> 
> Title is from Samson by Regina Spektor:  
> 'You are my sweetest downfall  
> I loved you first, I loved you first  
> Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads  
> But they're just old light, they're just old light'

Everything had been going well.

Until it wasn’t anymore.

But that’s always the way it is, isn’t it? It’s going perfectly, completely swimmingly and then suddenly you’re running for your life, with at least six guards with blasters following you and no functioning comms devices.

Or at least, that is the way it is currently going for Juno Steel and Peter Nureyev.

After the successes they’ve had in the past, despite the mild messes they’ve left behind, Buddy knows that they make a good pairing, especially for something which requires conversation. Peter is almost a perfect actor and Juno is perceptive and quick on his feet.

This wasn’t even meant to be a difficult heist, a pit-stop in their grand plans to steal a myth itself. Peter and Juno were pulling an old con in a new place, Venus was definitely far enough for no one to recognise the married act, even if they are in a slightly awkward situation of having not spoken about their relationship in any great detail.

Besides, they barely look like themselves.

Peter’s suit is a rich, striking purple, with bronze accents, almost simple compared to the floral patterns he is usually partial to. He is wearing bright blue contacts, hiding his warm dark eyes behind sharpness and his black hair is slicked back. None of his usual piercings are in; that would never be this man’s style. He is slippery and sly and when he speaks, it is nasal, drawling. Ulysses Jade is the name and it suits him.

Juno’s dress is bronze, to match obviously, floor length, and hugging his figure in all the right ways. The coy slit up the left leg reveals just a little skin and hides the blaster stashed away there. He wears a glass eye which is slightly terrifyingly realistic, provided you don’t stare too closely. The scars across his face have been hidden by excellent use of make up and his usually wild hair is artfully curled. The necklace and earrings are amethyst, for Ulysses Jade and his wife Hyacinth Jade are nothing if not perfectly coordinated.

The heist was simple: get their hands on a tiny, perfect diamond, kept on display in the most exclusive bar on Venus.

Ulysses and Hyacinth Jade were obviously on the list to get into that bar. Rita made sure of it. And, boy did they fit in. A pair of mating shrikes, beautiful and deadly.

Peter swans around, all sharpness and cold drawl, able with a few easy movements to erase most of the hidden cameras. Juno sits at the bar, poised and perfect but with a razor-wit for the few idiots who try to approach him.

It had all been going perfectly. Juno had set up his distraction, an argument over a comms device which was just loud and obfuscating enough for heads to turn whilst Peter’s lithe, quick fingers had liberated the diamond from the display case.

And then something had gone wrong. As Peter is extracting himself to join back up with Juno, for them to share a few spiked words before moving on, a hand clamps down on his wrist.

“Mister Jade,” says a man, who has been flirting almost incessantly with Juno for most of the evening, despite his cold replies.

“Can I help you?” Ulysses says, his voice like oil. “Oh, you’re the one who has been annoying my wife.” The man recoils, surprised by this statement.

“Madame Jade is certainly something else,” he says, clearly thrown.

“Isn’t he just? Is there something you wanted?” Peter bites down an insult, because Ulysses is far above that kind of thing.

“Oh, uh, your wife appears to be having a disagreement with a lover, over comms,” he whispers and Peter schools his face into one of anger and surprise.

“Excuse me,” Ulysses Jade snaps, yanking himself away from this man and as he does so, the man knocks into the glass case that had held the diamond, sending it smashing to the floor.

And Peter darts forward, knowing that they’ll be searching for the item which rests in his trouser pocket.

“Hyacinth darling, this place is boring me, come,” Ulysses says imperiously and Juno stands without question, dropping his comms device in the hurry to get over to Peter. Sloppy, but excusable. People are staring at the shattered display case and if they’re lucky, they might be able to slip away without anyone noticing. They are almost at the exit of the bar when there is a shout.

“The diamond! It’s gone.”

“We better run, darling,” Peter whispers and Juno doesn’t need telling twice. They break into a full run, just as security notices that they’re leaving and gives chase.

* * *

The first blaster shot wings past Juno's ear and he curses, viciously, picking up the pace. He grabs own blaster from the thigh holster, but he's not bothering to pause long enough to shoot.

“Keep up, Jade,” he hisses back to Peter who whilst long-limbed, is not a fast runner. He pours on just enough speed to catch up to Juno, pulling out his comms device to call the Carte Blanche when things go from bad to worse.

A blaster shot hits Nureyev directly in the hand, destroying the one working comms they had left. He cries out in pain, cradling his wrist. The burn is bad and from a glance Juno knows those blasters aren't set to stun. Peter reaches out, grasping at Juno's hand and he manages to keep in stride.

“Go on ahead,” he gasps. “You're faster, try to contact the Carte Blanche, go!”

“I'm not leaving you,” Juno spits back, tightening his grip on Nureyev's hand. “So don't you dare.”

For a split second, Juno can see the absolute adoration in Peter's eyes, even through the veneer of Ulysses Jade. Ulysses Jade doesn't care about anyone, not even his wife and they both like it that way.

But Peter Nureyev?

Peter Nureyev loves Juno Steel with his whole heart.

They're slowing down. Peter doesn't have the stamina like Juno does; he's built for short bursts of speed to escape rather than Juno's ability to hold a chase. The blaster fire is getting closer, grazing the top of Juno's carefully arranged curls.

Peter makes a decision.

“I'm right here with you,” he promises, through gasped breaths and let's go of Juno's hand to gesture ahead of them. “See that building and alley? Head for there, we can lose them.” Juno nods and they continue to bolt down the winding streets here on Venus. The blaster fire behind them lessens as they duck and weave through the back alleys.

Juno's dress is hiked up to his knees, his heels long abandoned as he runs barefoot through the streets. Peter's tie is shoved askew, his lungs screaming for air as they just keep running. Finally, the sound of blaster fire stops and after running for a couple of streets, Juno comes to a stop. Peter all but crashes into him, his vision blurred from lack of oxygen.

“Did... lose… them?” he manages to pant out between greedy breaths.

“Think so,” Juno replies, out of breath himself. His feet are bloodied and raw from running barefoot, but he ignores it. They can deal with that when they are sure they’re safe. After a moment, Peter straightens up and shuffles to the corner of the alley, glancing back down the way they came, to make sure they aren’t being followed.

Juno turns, to see Peter head to the end of the alley, pause and then be thrown backwards as a bolt of blaster fire hits him dead in the chest.

“ _NUREYEV_!” He yells, bolting to his side.

There is one person who had managed to keep up, stood not 30 feet away, blaster smoking. Juno doesn't need to be a good shot to hit him in the head, but its quietly nice to know that all his practice with only one eye is paying off, eventually.

He leaves the man on the floor, stunned and drops to his knees to look at Peter Nureyev.

His purple suit is almost black with blood, the shirt no longer near white. Juno scrambles to pull off the clothes to get a better look at the wound. It's deep, bleeding heavily, just underneath the matching chest surgery scars he has.

Peter's eyes are open, fluttering as he tries to breathe and Juno has never hated those blue contacts more.

“Fuck,” Juno hisses and Peter hisses out what could be a laugh. “Don’t you move, you're gonna be fine.”

“ _Juno_ ,” he replies and Juno could cry. He loves the way Peter says his name, the way he makes it sound soft, revered like the old Earth goddess he is named for.

But right now, it just sounds like a goodbye.

“Don't,” Juno says sharply. He is using Peter's silk jacket to soak up the blood but there is just so much and they have no supplies and no way to contact the Carte Blanche.

He looks at the stunned guy on the floor.

Comms.

“You don't get to die on me,” he says threateningly to Nureyev who smiles with blood-stained lips.

Juno dives forward, digging through the man's pockets until he manages to find his comms device. Rita's frequency is memorized, has been for years.

“Rita,” he gasps down the line as he shuffles back over to Nureyev, to try and keep pressure on his chest wound.

“Oh hey boss, Buddy's been wondering when you'd check in, but it's always nice that you'd call little old me-”

“Rita!” Juno yells. “Get down here. Nur-Ransom's hurt. It's bad. We need Vespa now!”

“Got it, boss, wait, Buddy's here,” she says and Nureyev gives a cut off whimper, blood dripping over his lips.

“Juno, darling, what's the situation?” Buddy’s voice is smooth, no nonsense as ever.

“Ransom's down. Chest wound. It's... it's bad,” Juno says, fighting back panic.

“Vespa and Jet are on their way. Breathe, Juno. You need to relax. Rita has found the signal of this comms device, stay right there.” Juno just curses, pressing down on the wound so much that Peter cries out weakly. He drops the comms device, not wanting to listen to Buddy try and keep him calm Nureyev bleeds out in his arms.

“ _Juno_ ,” Peter says, in that same reverent tone and Juno scowls.

“You’re gonna be fine. Vespa and Jet are coming. You’re gonna be _fine,_ Nureyev.”

“Who’d have thought it, ey? Juno Steel, the optimist.” The reply lacks any bite and whilst the words are charming, Nureyev’s voice is so weak that it doesn’t land at all. He coughs and blood drips from his lips. “ _Juno_ , I-”

“No, don’t,” Juno says sharply. He looks down at those bright blue eyes and winces. But despite everything, the clothes and the make-up, it’s Peter Nureyev looking up at him, not Ulysses Jade. “Don’t give me any death-bed confessions, you’re not dying on me.” Peter gives a wheezing laugh and looks up at the sky, tinged blue by the dome. It’s dark and Venus’s atmosphere is heavy, blocking out the stars.

“I love you,” he whispers, up to the skies, the breath catching sharply in his throat. “I was such a fool to think I ever stopped.”

“ _Nureyev_ ,” Juno gasps out, futilely trying to keep his voice steady.

Peter smiles.

And it’s so soft, nothing like the oil-slick grin of Ulysses Jade or the fox’s smirk of Rex Glass or the lovesick sigh of Duke Rose. This is Peter Nureyev’s smile. Slightly secretive, shy and well-protected. His eyes return to Juno’s as he struggles to inhale.

“ _Ju_ -no…” he chokes on the word and Juno pulls him into his arms because he’s gasping like a beached fish, his punctured lung giving up. The ex-PI presses his forehead against Peter’s and the last thing he hears before everything goes black is,

“I love you too, you _damned idiot_.”

* * *

When Peter wakes up, everything hurts. His chest aches, his head is swimming, his hand throbs.

His first thought is mild surprise he is alive and his second is annoyance that he’s not on enough drugs for it not to be complete agony.

He cracks his eyes open and lets out a low, agonised groan at the bright room.

“Don’t move, Ransom,” comes a growl from beside him. Vespa. She’s the only one who would call him that with that much vitriol in her voice. So he is alive. He gives another weak sound in reply.

“Yeah, yeah, more painkillers, here,” she mutters and Peter is suddenly in less pain. He doesn’t try opening his eyes again.

“You gave us quite the scare there, Pete,” says another voice, not as close by. Buddy. She’s the only one who would call him Pete. “But you’re going to be okay. Rest and recover.” There’s a lot running through Peter’s mind right now. What happened? Is Juno okay? Did they succeed? Is Juno okay? How bad are his injuries? Is Juno okay?

But he doesn’t think he has the energy to form words to ask these questions, so he just gives another pained grunt and gets a reply in response.

“You’ve got another scar, but other than that, you’ll be fine in a few days. Need to let your body replenish all that blood it lost,” Vespa mutters and Peter sighs. He supposes that will have to do for now. He can already feel himself dozing back off.

When he wakes again, everything is darker and hurts less. He manages to crack an eye open and finds that he’s in the infirmary, the lights dimmed by the ships’ night cycle. He blinks, slowly assessing everything. He’s sore, but the pain is dulled. Glancing down at his bare chest, there is a wrap of white bandages around the centre, covering most of his ribs. His right hand, which took the blaster fire, is also bandaged.

He’s not alone either.

Sat slumped over in a chair which does not usually live in the infirmary, is the small silhouette of Juno Steel. The ex-PI is fast asleep, curled in on himself which makes him look even short than he already is. Peter smiles ever so slightly and moves to push himself upright. That _hurts,_ a lot more than he was expecting and he lets out a pained yelp, waking Juno. The lady in question jolts, hand going to a blaster, before remembering where he is and looking straight at Peter.

Honestly, Juno looks like hell.

He is wearing his black eyepatch again, but there is smeared make-up across his cheeks and he’s wearing an oversized jumper which swallows him completely.

Peter winces. If Juno looks so bad, what must he look like?

“You’re awake,” Juno grunts and strides across the infirmary in two steps. Peter doesn’t fail to notice the wincing as the lady walks. His feet are still healing from running.

“Mmhm,” Peter manages before Juno passes him a cup of water, which he drinks gratefully. “Juno…” Juno looks like he wants to say something, but communication has never been his strong suit. He just gives Peter a small nod.

“I’m… god, _Nureyev_. I was so scared,” he manages to whisper after a moment. And Peter doesn’t really care if anyone overheard his name at this point. The way Juno says it, like _Peter Nureyev_ is something to be treasured, to be cared for, is more than he can take.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out as Juno touches his fingers to the back of his good hand.

“Don’t apologise. You’re alright. Vespa saved your life.” And Juno sounds a little frustrated about that. He doesn’t exactly get on with Vespa.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly and Juno blinks, confused.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Feet got torn up but nothing that couldn’t be fairly easily fixed.” Peter relaxes at that. That is what is important.

“And the mission?”

“Completed and fine. Though, we were more worried about you than the damned diamond. Buddy was pretty stressed,” Juno admits. Peter gives a half-smile, surprised by the care shown to him by his captain. He blinks up at Juno, who is patterned in grey and silver by the starlight coming in through the infirmary’s windows. He doesn’t need to ask how stressed Juno was; it’s written all over his face. They’re both quiet for a long moment and Peter can feel himself drifting back off again, though he tries to fight it.

“Did you mean it.” It’s not really a question at all from Juno. Peter thinks, tries to connect the statement to something when it all comes rushing back. What he admitted when he wasn’t sure he was going to make it. So, he does what he has done with Juno for a long time.

He tells the truth.

“Yes,” Peter says, simply. “I did mean it and I still do.” They’ve both been getting better at this, at talking about their feelings rather than filing them away for future consideration.

“Good,” Juno says, a little awkwardly. “Because, well, um, me too.” Peter’s grin is a little fox-like but he doesn’t tease Juno for the stumbled words. He’s happy enough with the sentiment.

“I’m glad,” Peter says, sounding a lot calmer than he actually feels. He shifts his fingers, to wrap around Juno’s hand and the lady squeezes his hand lightly. He is staring down at Peter like he is trying to memorize every contour of his face. “What?”

“Just, um, glad your eyes are the right colour again,” Juno says and then shuffles, like he is surprised that he said that at all. Peter breathes out a laugh, remembering the bright blue contacts he was wearing for Ulysses Jade.

“You didn’t like the contacts?”

“I like your eyes,” Juno mutters defensively. Peter’s smile turns soft again and he runs his long fingers over the back of Juno’s hand.

“Why thank you, dear,” he murmurs.

“You, you should rest,” Juno says, making no move to leave, which Peter is silently glad about.

“Mmhm, okay.” He settles back into the pillows, letting his eyes flutter closed as he continues to cling to Juno’s hand. The ex-PI doesn’t try to extricate himself, just moves so he is perched on the edge of the bed.

“Goodnight, Nureyev.”

“Goodnight, Juno.” And Peter Nureyev lets himself sleep once more, lets himself heal, safe in the knowledge that when he wakes, Juno Steel will be there to look after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come and yell at me on twitter or tumblr at HistoriaGloria!


End file.
